Night's Champion
by InquisitorAshlynn
Summary: Faced with grief, anger, betrayal, our hero sets off into the world, only to be stopped in the neighboring country's capital, Gran Soren. With the dragon's coming, the people are filled with fear and are desperate. Will he be the Champion they're looking for or will he meet the Champion they've both been searching for?
1. Prologue

Prologue

He was only just a babe when his mother past away. She fell ill after childbirth and no magical remedies could cure her unknown sickness. Due to the sickness, she was unable to move and care for her child; She would lay in bed all day, occasionally holding her bundle of joy. As she lay, she grew weaker and frailer as each day slipped away into the night. She slowly began to fade just like the past.

Although she was ill, the baby was brought up strong and healthy. Her child was nursed and cared for by the midwives around the lord's castle and the baby grew into a boy, filled with wonder and yearned to fill his father's ebony boots.

He would watch his father carefully, observing every move he made and also every hesitation. As duke of Voldoa, the boy's father was a very busy man, though it did not stop him from visiting her. Late in the night, the boy would follow the duke to the duchess's bedchambers. In a crack of the solid oak door, he gazed at the couple, listening to their hushed speech and cries. He did not understand why his mother would not get better, though he did realize she was engulfed in darkness all the time, the night. This time, he would stay and overcome this darkness.

Disturbed from his thoughts, the boy noticed his father get up from the bed and slowly shuffle to the door. The man opened the door, stepped halfway into the hall and looked back at his beloved. He stared at her with soft eyes and hesitantly moved away, letting the door slide back into place. Just as the door came to a stop, the boy's hand shot from the darkness and held the handle. His face emerged from the shadows next and he glanced around before slipping into the quiet room.

The room was dark, only admitting a faint light from a corner that harbored a candle. He let a small sigh out. He walked towards the middle of the chamber and stared at the stony ceiling. He stood there for a good ten minutes, gaping at the legendary surroundings. Her bed was grand, almost a little too grand for a duchess, but alas she would not need it long.

The boy then stalked to the giant window, big as the entire wall, and pulled a string to draw the curtains. Pale moonlight flooded through the empty window and swallowed up the furniture like a churning sea to a fishing boat. He smiled that he overcame the darkness and went to his mother's bedside. Still smiling, he opened his mouth to say something, but then he frowned. She glowed in the light, her skin almost as pale as the moon itself. Fear filled his soul and he grabbed his mother and shook her shoulder violently. He allowed a cry to be heard, deep from his chest. Guards, servants and even the duke came rushing in the room.

The duke gasped and ran to the side which the boy was standing. He cast aside his son and threw his arms around his wife. The boy stumbled back, into a patch of darkness that hid from the moon's light. He fell onto his rump, with his head hanging down. He slowly looked up and glared at his father. He wasn't angry with his father, or sad from his mother's death. He thought to himself, _the darkness did this. It filled her soul. The night will not have control. I will be that champion to deal with the night's monsters and evil. I will be the Night's Champion._


	2. Chapter 1

The sun was always on time to greet its friend, the moon. Its bright morning light pierced through the rolling green hills of Voldoa's countryside. The night was banished from the nooks and crannies in the mountains and along with the night, monsters panicked and scurried for their holes. The sun then greeted the duke's castle. Light trickled up the ancient walls, materialized within the hold and shined brightly off the decorative armored knights, standing along the walls so still one would think they're statues. Slowly, the light crept upon the luxurious carpet, making its way into the room of Voldoa's proudest knight. Farther and farther the light danced until it found the sleeping man's nose. It twitched and the man unconsciously rolled over, shunning the sun's light. The light, looking perplexed, sluggishly filled the room and shone brightly. The room then sparkled with thousands of colored lights.

The knight shifted and groaned with anguish. Now conscious, he lifted his hand to block the glittering lights from his tired eyes. A small smile spread across his face, knowing the sun's afterglow was looking after her earth and distributing the light evenly across the land. The night was vanquished. He unsheathed his half naked body from the sheets that shielded him the night's coldness. He sat up and swung his legs over the edge of his bed, rubbed his eyes, yawned and stood on the cold cobblestone floor. An exhilarated sigh ruptured from his throat. _The sun is shining once more on this dark world. And you, my friend, are once again greeted with joy. _The knight walked toward his dresser, adjacent to the end of his bed, and reached out to stroke the shining glittering jeweled goblet, resting atop the surface. _I fear I have not love of gold or priceless jewels, but the lights produced from this goblet make me shudder with_ ecstasy. _The light is pure and will smite evil where it stands._ He carefully lifted the goblet and rotated it to see the flashing gems sparkle. He then placed back on the dresser and commenced with his morning routine.

As he strutted down the long corridor, in his full suit of gold engraved ebony armor called the Nameless Armor, his cape, bathed in blue, flowed majestically in his wake. The shield upon his back glinted in the sunlight that sprayed through the corridor's windows as he continued down his path. Men stood at the end and guarded the entrance to the duke's court. They gladly moved aside for the knight in black.

As he entered the imposing space, a thunderous roar filled the air surrounding him. "Ah here he comes! My son! Back from the land of the dead and well awake!" The voice boomed from the center of the court and a large figure stood up from his throne, with his arms spread wide like welcoming an embrace.

The knight shook his head and held his brow with his fore finger and thumb. He sighed and continued moving towards this man known as his father and his duke. As he stepped in front of his father, he knelt and bowed his head.

"My boy! You needn't do that! We are blood foolish boy!" With that, the duke reached down and pulled the knight to his feet. The duke rubbed his chin, "So? Did you complete your objective?"

He stared at his son patiently. Finally the young man spoke. "If you're referring to the horrendously smelly creatures in the mountains, then yes father."

The duke's face lit up. "Ah wonderful! Simply wonderful!" The duke glanced behind him and sat back on his regal throne. He lay back with a grin on his bearded face. "Oh I forgot." He leaned forward to his son, motioned him to come closer with his hand and whispered, "Did you retrieve the item?"

He backed out again and waited for his son to reply. The knight, still leaning forward, looked up from his gaze at the floor and simply replied, "Of course your highness." He tilted back to standing, smirking at his father's hush-hush demeanor. The duke nodded his head, slowly and thoughtfully. "Good, good." He stared off into the distance, remembering the night where… His thoughts were cut short by a shrieking voice, "Your highness!"

A short stocky man came rushing into the court, nearly out of breath. He ran straight for the throne and almost fell over on the floor. He was panting and kneeling over, trying to catch his breath. When he finally did, he peered up and a dark figure was standing over him, sneering down in his direction. "Neeah… Oh Lord Julien, I did not see you there."

He stood up straight, but still he looked up to Julien. _He is such an intimidating knight, yet a good and loyal one._ Julien towered over the man, giving his superior scowl. He did not say a word, but his eyes spoke with conviction and intensity. The man could not help, but cower in his presence. Julien sensed this and meekly stood aside when he was done staring down his father's adviser. The duke simply chuckled at his son's protective behavior and waved for his adviser to continue.

The adviser nervously laughed, rubbed his hands, licked his lips and quietly stated, " Uh, your highness… the northern hold has been… overthrown…" The stocky man flinched right away to avoid being struck. When that didn't come, he opened his squinted eyes and grimaced. The duke sat there quietly, rubbing his chin. "Uh… Duke Daleborn?"

Julien's mouth hung slightly ajar and looked at his father with wide eyes. Yet Duke Daleborn seemed to ignore the fact his way point was being overthrown and his men slaughtered. Julien grew impatient and looked at his father, then the little man several times before speaking. "Father, I am leaving at once. The people need me." Julien swiftly turned towards the exit, taking large strides. Then he heard the gravely tone of his father speak, "Wait Julien." The knight stopped and faced his father. Duke Daleborn stood high and adjusted his mighty posture. He breathed in. "Be careful, my son." Julien's hard character softened a bit and nodded towards his father. With that, he turned once more and left the hall for the northern hold.

Accompanied by several guards of the kingdom, Julien hastily made his way for the Duke's northern hold. From the back of his horse, he spotted incredulous black smoke and flames curling and licking at the darken sky. He furrowed his brow with disbelief and gazed sadly at the death infused fort. The knight strongly urged his horse faster with a swift kick, eagerly wanting to see what happened.

Outside the large burnt gates, Julien and the men dismounted their horses. Julien peered at the walls, blacken with ash, and noticed the hold's flags were torn off instead of being burned. He held a stern gaze at the hold and motioned the men following to stop.

"What is it, Lord Julien," one of the men questioned. The soldiers halted and waited for the knight's response, impatiently. Julien glanced around him, taking in all of his surroundings, gaining knowledge of the battlefield, placing things that were out of place. He turned to face the men, still staring intensely, and placed his hand on the end of his mace. "The air here is foul."

The men looked at each other, confused by the knight's comment. "Err what do you mean by that sir?"

"The air around us reeks of sulfur. A hand full of things can create the smell, but only two are associated with fire as well," the knight stated calmly, keeping his gaze firm.

"And those two creatures are?" One of the soldiers crossed his arms and shifted back and forth, waiting to charge into the fort, ready to kill something.

Julien sighed at the man's impotence of the mind, yet he was still patient with him. "Dragons and mages," he answered with conviction. The soldiers responded with silent nods or quiet ohs and ahs. The knight faced the fort once more and rolled his eyes at their dimwitted behavior. He marched up the muddy path to the hold and carefully tread into the courtyard with his shield and mace drawn, ready for any attack. Behind him, the soldiers of the kingdom quietly stepped after him, weapons also unsheathed. All was quiet. Surrounding them, bodies littered the foyer, some bloodied and missing chunks of flesh, others charred from fire. Some of the men gagged at the scene and lurch over, throwing up their breakfasts'.

"Do not fault now. We must be vigilant." Julien steadily made his way towards the center of the yard, but a shadow caught his attention. It swayed in a doorway and disappeared into the hold's stone hallways.

Julien gasped and sprinted after it. "Come at once! We mustn't let the fiend escape," he barked at the bewildered soldiers as they watched the young knight bolt for a doorway. Julien tore after the shadowed figure through the stone hallways, past dead bodies and smelling globs of unknown origins. Tears filled his eyes due to the scent. It was overpowering, blinding him, but he did not tire. He heard the shouts and cries of the soldiers behind him, wanting to catch up, but he paid no attention to them. The villain was almost in his grasp. He leaped with great force and tackled the fleeing assailant, bringing it to the cold ground. They tussled in the muck, grunting and grumbling in anger, yet Julien subdued the unknown man, pinning him to the floor.

"Who are you," Julien snarled and slammed the man's head to the hard ground. The man yelped in pain. Julien bared his teeth and pulled the man closer to his face. The man was young, practically a boy, hair stained with blood and mud, face twisted with fear and pain. He was frightened, crying frantically.

The boy whimpered quietly, "Please sir. Spare me." He sniffed heavily. "The hold… attacked… by men dressed in hoods carrying staffs. They came in here and threatened everyone. Suddenly fire rained from the sky, so I hid in the stables, luckily they didn't find me or I would've perished surely." He sobbed loudly now, remembering everything that happened. "Please sir; I am merely a stable boy." Julien's grip on the boy's clothing eased and he gently put the boy back on the ground. He hushed the child and asked him what exactly happened. The kid wiped his eyes, still whimpering softly and looked at Julien.

"The men came with staffs…"

"Mages, you mean."

"Yes, mages," the boy agreed. "After they accomplished their dark goals, they gathered in the courtyard and discussed something. I overheard and I fear this might have been a trap for you." The boy wiped the bloodied snot running down his nose.

Julien frowned. "What do you mean a trap?"

"I do not know. They left quickly after it, but they mentioned a knight whose hair was as blond as the sun and armor as black as night."

Julien was baffled. Who were these men and how did they know him? Though wanting to know more, he questioned no further and carefully picked up the battered and shaken boy and carried him to the courtyard, where the kingdom's men were lingering.

They gathered in the courtyard, chatting and laughing, unscathed about their dark ambiance. Julien jogged out, perplexed by the their strange attitudes. He slowed down and walked suspiciously over to their group. The men suddenly stopped talking and glared at the knight who held the weak boy. One stepped forward.

"Halt. You will not leave this hold," the man bellowed at Julien. He folded his arms and sneered at the young man. Julien stood silently, holding the whimpering boy. He set the boy down serenely and whispered something inaudibly into the boy's ear. The little kid nodded and limped away, making his way to the entrance of the destroyed fort. The air blew softly around them, playing in Julien's light hair.

He then abruptly draws his mace and shield and dashes straight at the men, giving his best war cry in the process. Before they knew what was going on, Julien struck down the first man with a heavy blow. The man crumpled at his feet. The others responded in cries and the sound of their swords and weapons being drawn filled the air. A heavier man, whose face was painted with facial hair, rushed at Julien while the others circled them like vultures. The two weapons clashed against each other, emitting a sound very familiar to the crash of lightning. Julien yelled and pushed the heavy man away, causing him to fall into the mud. Another lunged. The knight swung his mace behind him, meeting the soldier's head, leaving a gaping hole. The man fell aside with a thud. Two more went for the kill. Julien reacted quickly. He bashed the first one with his shield, staggering him, and immediately dodged the other soldier's swing. The man missed, making a grave mistake, and received a bash to the back of his skull. Three soldiers were left. Julien panted and watched his attackers circle him slowly. They nodded to each other, secretly plotting. A younger soldier lunged and Julien went into defense mode, but the attacker suddenly backed off. Then he felt a sharp pain seared in his lower back. He clenched his teeth and sucked in. He felt the warm liquid oozing out of his fresh wound, but it only angered him more than weakening him. Ignoring the pain, he dashed forward, surprising the young soldier and knocking him down. He slammed his mace down on both of the man's knees, crippling him. The young man cried out loudly. Julien twirled around and kicked a soldier rushing towards him. The black knight sprinted for the last one and rolled forward, getting momentum for crushing the man's legs. He brought his mace frontward, breaking the soldier's knee cap, sending him to the ground.

Julien got to his feet gradually. He held his aching back with one hand, and limped towards the young soldier, whose knees were crushed. He was whimpering and trying to crawl away. Julien harshly rolled him over and grabbed his collar, tugging him upwards. The knight glared sternly at the crying man and growled, "Why?"

When he didn't get a quick response, he shook the man's shoulders furiously. "WHY," he screamed.

"The Duke…" he stammered. Julien eyed him curiously and waited patiently. "He ordered us to… attack." The dying man licked his lips and he continued, "He's mad. He wanted the hold to be destroyed by necromancers… to collect souls. He didn't want the truth to be revealed…" With a final breath, the man slowly drifted off in Julien's clutches. The young man stared at the dead man, trembling in rage. He roared at the clouded sky, teeming with rain. _Betrayed_, he thought. _The most loyal knight to be stuck down in an evil scheme betrayed by his blood, his own father._ Julien dropped the soldier and paced towards the entrance, where the boy and his horse were waiting.


End file.
